A Song of Doubts
by andra bo
Summary: Seren Cousland finds herself far away from home, in the midst of a Blight, caught between lovers and struggling to not lose herself in grief.


**Ch. 1 Waking Up**

She didn't really see him at first.

She didn't see much of anything at first. Just glimpses of the world, here and there. Flashes. The outskirts of Highever. The Koraci Wilds. The road to Lothering. The gleam of dancing daggers. The goblet. The look of aching hunger on the face of a child. The straw bed in that strange hut. Duncan's hands, sparking the campfire. And the darkspawn. So many darkspawn.

Coming to was a long and drawn out process, and sometimes she took steps backwards. She woke up a little when she and Duncan first arrived at Ostagar, and a little more when Ser Jory balked, and a more still while climbing the Tower of Ishal. Then darkness. Then the two women in the wilds, apostates. She talked to them, apparently coherently. She remembers asking Flemeth for her help, and the look on Morrigan's face when Flemeth offered it. She remembers the Templar briefly punctuating her fog with the desperation in his voice when he thought she was abandoning him. Sten in his cage. The little boy's face, twisted in demonic rage. Bits of piece of battles.

She was there when she had to be, as much as she had to be: to hold a conversation, to barter with merchants, to maneuver a foe or ally, to lead a battle, to maim and kill. And then she would retreat into the fog again. Or the fog would envelope her again. She still wasn't quite sure which was more true.

By the time they were hunting abominations in the Tower, she was at least half-conscious. She felt fully awake in the Fade, but pushed back down in the fog as soon as Uldred drew his last, choking breath.

Next time she came to, she was in Leliana's tent, in Leliana's bedroll. In Leliana's arms. And Lel was saying it felt so safe and right. And that seemed true, and right, and good. Seren just wasn't quite sure how she got there.

No, that's not quite true. She had an idea how she got there. Growing up in Highever, she'd always been good at getting her way, even when she didn't know what she wanted. Good at light touches and playful innuendo, harmless expressions of affection, gently teasing pet names, and of course kissing. Disinterested in the noble boys paraded by her – or was she the one paraded by them? – but eager to try her hand at winning others' affection, and restless to explore beyond the confines of the castle and her parents' watchful gazes.

A bard: a wanderer and fighter. And a woman. A beautiful woman. An Orlesian woman who claimed she saw holy visions of them saving the world together. Not exactly the standard fare of nascent nobles and gentlemen Seren was used to at Castle Highever. No wonder she fell into Lel's bed.

But no, that's not quite right either. Or at least Seren knew it wasn't the whole picture. If she was being honest with herself, she always felt more present, more really there, whenever she was around Lel. With Lel it seemed more bearable to open her eyes and see where she was: far from home, everyone dead, or perhaps about to die, with everything on the line and dying so very slowly of darkspawn poisoning. Lel was so sweet and distracting, beautiful, enticingly enigmatic and at least a little dangerous. No wonder Seren followed her into bed.

And more than that: she knew in her own way she had reached out to Leliana. Pursued her even. Broke out of the fog of memories and nightmares long enough to invite her to fall for her. And if she was cognizant enough to do that - if she was really being honest with herself - then at some point she must have noticed him too, noticed him as something more than the now senior Grey Warden. At least a little, on some level. Leliana certainly thought so, and would say as much. That terrible conversation. "I have seen the looks you give to him –" Her accusation stung like a slap in the face, and Seren felt her face flush. "I know how a woman tries to snare a man. Maybe it is subconscious, but you do it."

Had Seren even realized she was doing that? Leliana was on the verge of tears and fuming. Seren felt faraway, helpless and exhausted. And yet curious, despite herself: If she'd really been doing this, was it also true it had an effect on the Templar? She found her gaze drifting across the campfire to where the boy stood with his back turned, working out watch duty with Shale. And this time, she caught herself doing it.

But it was too late. Leliana had followed her gaze, then retreated to her own tent with loud, angry steps, no further word spoken. Seren lay on her own for the first time in over two weeks. She couldn't bear to take refuge in her own tent; it seemed to yawn so cavernously, tiny and threadbare as it was. She set up her bedroom by the fire instead, and spent most of the night staring at the nearly starless night sky. The clouds were out tonight, and the air felt thick and heavy. Her mind leapt back and forth between thoughts of her bard lover and thoughts of her lost home, as if stepping upon hot coals. So she turned her mind to the darkspawn instead, and counted kills in her head until she finally drifted off.


End file.
